


Stars to Steer By

by Ancalime



Category: Uncharted
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-21
Updated: 2012-12-21
Packaged: 2017-11-21 20:36:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/601815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ancalime/pseuds/Ancalime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It came out in bits and pieces, Nate's real history. If Sully had been the type to carry around journals the way the kid did, he'd have a whole page dedicated to documenting the tiny slips; if he were a poetic man, he'd say each one was a star and eventually a whole constellation would be revealed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stars to Steer By

**Author's Note:**

  * For [samsnow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/samsnow/gifts).



It came out in bits and pieces, Nate's real history. If Sully had been the type to carry around journals the way the kid did, he'd have a whole page dedicated to documenting the tiny slips; if he were a poetic man, he'd say each one was a star and eventually a whole constellation would be revealed.  
  
\---  
  
They were in Peru, investigating the admittedly unlikely story that there was more to be found in the ruins at Kuelap than met the eye. In reality, the need to put some space -- better yet, a country border -- between them and Marlowe, and the unfortunate incident at Cartagena drove Sully to chase down this particular story.  
  
A woman from a nearby village had agreed to guide them to the site. Late in the day after they'd been poking and prying into every crevice to no avail, Nate had given up and perched on a rock, pulling his notebook and a pencil from his satchel.   
  
"Nate, get over here and help look for that symbol the legend mentioned."  
  
"It's not there. We're in the wrong place. Can't you tell?" Sully still wasn't quite sure how old this kid even was, but at the moment he sounded like every other surly teenager on the planet.  
  
"How am I supposed to be able to tell we're in the wrong place, other than from the fact that we haven't found a goddamn thing?"  
  
"The reliefs are all the wrong style. Look at them!" Nate did not, in fact, deign to look at them, just continued sketching in his notebook while he talked.  
  
"How can you tell? They're barely legible!"  
  
"But that's exactly the problem! Is this the kind of place that's going to have a relief in good enough condition left to see that it's a sky god with seventeen feathers?" Nate waved his hand, gesturing around them in disgust. "Besides, the art style is too simplified for the kind of depiction we're looking for. It can't be here, unless someone else built on the same site at least a few hundred years later."  
  
"Fine," Sully muttered under his breath. "Just great. Go empty your bladder if you need to. I'll find our guide and we'll head back into town in a minute or two."  
  
Nate scrambled up and away, leaving his notebook on the stone half-wall where he'd been sitting. Sully couldn't help a quick glance before he headed to the northwest corner of the site where their guide waited for them.  
  
There were a half-dozen sketches on the two open pages -- busts of himself, Kate Marlowe, their guide, and some others he didn't recognize. One was less distinct than the rest, a woman both kind and sad-looking, the lines of her face echoing Nate's. Sully flipped the book closed and picked it up, holding it close as he walked off to find their guide so they could move on.  
  
\---  
  
At eighteen, Nathan Drake was a holy goddamn terror. Sully didn't even lay eyes on him for the better part of a year when they had an argument that turned into a bar fight in Darwin. When the dust had settled and the Australian police evaded, the kid was nowhere in sight.  
  
When he still didn't turn up the next day, or the next, Sully found himself actually worrying. It wasn't even close to their first bar fight, or their first argument, but most of the time Nate showed up like a bad penny the next day, unapologetic and more or less surly depending on the argument. When a week had passed and there was no sign of him, Sully started asking around with the contacts he knew in town. Nothing.  
  
Two weeks after the bar fight, Sully realized he was burning through his take from their last job and bought passage out of the country on a rust bucket headed for Singapore. A month, two months, three months, and the way he used to get by settled back on his shoulders like an old familiar coat. They both had post office boxes in a few places and every now and then, Sully would pick up the cheesiest postcard he could find and mail it to one of Nate's, He'd scribble something stupid on the back, middle of the goddamn monsoon season, or hotter than a goddamn furnace here.  
  
Six months after they parted ways, and right around the time Sully was starting to assume they'd never meet again, he was contacted by a client in Italy, looking to acquire some items from a private collection in Russia. They flew him out to the city, treated him to a few drinks at a nice bar, and he was on the verge of agreeing when he saw a figure both familiar and unfamiliar out of the corner of his eye.  
  
It was Nate -- in the stark black and stiff collar of a priest, of all things. He walked in, deep in what looked like a serious theological discussion and sounded like fluent Italian with someone who was probably an actual priest. Sully coughed to hide his surprise and sealed a much worse deal than he would have otherwise just to get his clients out of his hair. When they left, he took a better spot at the bar where he could keep an eye on the kid and make sure he didn't escape. It was the better part of an hour before the two stood and left, Sully following behind and calling out once the other man had gotten out of earshot.  
  
"Nate!" He froze, then turned around as if slogging through molasses. "What the hell are you doing here, dressed like that?"  
  
"What do you think? Conning some poor schmuck out of some fine Roman antiquities." Nate's shoulders were stiff, his tone defensive. Sully held out his hands in a calming gesture.  
  
"All right, all right. I'm sure you're doing a great job at it, kid. Need any help?" The look he got was priceless -- baffled, uncomprehending surprise.  
  
"You...want to help? But we..." Nate waved his hands, at a clear loss as to how to finish his sentence.  
  
"We got in an argument. It happens." Sully shrugged. "It happened before and you always came back. I had hoped you'd come back this time too."  
  
"I thought that was finally the last straw. That you were tired of having me around." With uncertainty written across his face, Nate looked much younger than his eighteen years.  
  
"Tired of having you around? Kid, we're partners! I expect you to argue with me. If I get tired of having you around, believe me, I'll tell it to you straight." Sully shook his head, chewing on his cigar. "C'mere."  
  
He walked up to Nate and slung an arm around his shoulders. "Okay, now tell me about these 'fine Roman antiquities' and how you're gonna take them off the hands of their owner. And especially what this getup has to do with it. Does anyone really believe you're a priest?"  
  
"They ought to, the nuns had us doing bible study night and day." Sully laughed at Nate's irritated tone. "This is probably the first time it's ever been useful."  
  
\---  
  
Elena made a face at Nate and grabbed his beer, taking just one small sip before returning it.  
  
"Hey!" Nate's expression was trying for grumpiness but Sully could see a near-overwhelming happiness bubbling underneath the surface. His eyes gleamed, barely leaving Elena to look around the rest of the bar, even to greet Sully.  
  
"C'mon, are you gonna tell him or do I have to do it?" Elena elbowed Nate, her fingers flying over the keys of her phone. Her smirk was devilish, yet there was something private and soft about it as well. Nate cleared his throat and looked at Sully, and Elena set the phone down to wrap her fingers around one of his hands.  
  
"Sully, I-- we--" He paused, then shook his head like a dog fresh from a lake. "Please tell me you've always wanted to be a godfather."  
  
"No!" Sully felt his face crack open into the biggest grin as the meaning of Nate's sentence sank in. "Really?"  
  
"Mm-hm." Elena's smile grew. "Marie Victoria."  
  
Sully coughed into his fist to conceal the sudden surge of emotion in his chest. "That's...quite a mouthful. I don't know why you'd inflict Victoria on any kid these days, but Marie's...nice."  
  
"It was my mother's name," Nate said, glancing down at the table. Elena squeezed his hand.


End file.
